t now that it had dawned on him
how utterly inartistic his work was, in humiliation and disgust he had
wiped it out of existence. With this thought in mind, the girl was
honestly sorry him.

But Jason Jones did not seem sorry. When the last ruined canvas had
been contemptuously flung into the corner he turned to the child and
said to her in a voice so cheerful that it positively startled her:

"Get your hat and let's take a walk. An artist's studio is no place for
us, Lory. Doesn't it seem deadly dull in here? And outside the sun is
shining!"

The rest of the day he behaved much like a human being. He took the
girl to the park to see the zoo, and bought her popcorn and peanuts--a
wild extravagance, for him. Later in the day they went to a picture
show and finally entered a down-town restaurant, quite different from
and altogether better than the one where they had always before eaten,
and enjoyed a really good dinner. When they left the restaurant he was
still in the restless and reckless mood that had dominated him and
said:

"Suppose we go to a theatre? Won't you like that better than you would
returning to our poky rooms?"

"Yes, indeed," responded Alora.

They had seats in the gallery, but could see very well. Just before the
curtain rose Alora noticed a party being seated in one of the boxes.
The lady nearest the rail, dressed in an elaborate evening gown, was
Janet Orme. There was another lady with her, conspicuous for blonde
hair and much jewelry, and the two gentlemen who accompanied them kept
in the background, as if not too proud of their company.

Alora glanced at her father's face and saw the scowl there, for he,
too, had noted the box-party. But neither of the two made any remark
and soon the child was fully absorbed in the play.

As they left the theatre Janet's party was entering an automobile,
laughing and chatting gaily. Both father and daughter silently watched
them depart, and then they took a street car and went home.

"Get to bed, girl," said Jason Jones, when they had mounted the stairs.
"I'll smoke another pipe, I guess."

When she came out of her room next morning she heard her father
stirring in the studio. She went to him and was surprised to find him
packing his trunk, which he had drawn into the middle of the room.

"Now that you're up," said he in quite a cheerful tone, "we'll go to
breakfast, and then I'll help you pack your own duds. Only one trunk,
though, girl, for the othe